A part of me has died.
My flesh and blood, my first born son.
His due date was yesterday.
There was so much I wanted to say, to write. I wanted to scream out to the world that he should have been here. I wanted people to know, that me being with them, around them, out and about, being available to help others was WRONG- so very wrong. That going to dinner, and pretending to be OK, and smiling, and joking, was NOT what I was supposed to be doing. I should have been having a baby. I should have been either extremely pregnant, mother to a newborn, or in labour yesterday.
I am fine. I will be fine. My life goes on. But it is surreal. I envision the might-have-beens and should-haves and it feels as though I’m looking at someone else’s life.
Was he real?
To me, he was, is, and always will be. God I miss him.